NO ORDINARY ROOM (15 page)

The Tranter guy he’d seen at the pig farm and caught a glimpse of in his back garden and he didn’t exactly look like a master spy.  If he was working for some foreign intelligence service like the Ruskies, then his job was one heck of a cover.  The equipment had to be in the Tranter house and yet there was no sign of a sophisticated antennae system that Slater, the Brit communications expert, had told him would have to be in place.  Not unless it was located in a remote position away from the house or perhaps camouflaged.

It was just after 9 o’clock when Sligo decided that nothing was going to happen on this watch and he headed back indoors.  He’d logged once again that there had been some activity in the room, but only for about ten minutes.

* * *

Sligo was in his room filling out the Meltog chart, a sort of flowchart for intelligence surveillance, when he heard Rufus answer the knock on the front door.  Sligo eased his giant frame out of the chair and tiptoed to the bedroom door, taking special care not to bang his head on the low ceiling.  The caller was speaking very quickly, almost as fast as a New Yorker and in an accent that he hadn’t heard before and he was relieved that it wasn’t an American accent that might have meant that someone had come looking for him.  Sligo had to rely upon what Rufus was saying in order to piece together the conversation. 

Just before Rufus closed the door he heard him say that he would pop the key through the letter box after he’d given the cat a last feed before they were due back.  Sligo returned to his room and finished off updating his chart to which was attached various photographs, including one of Kevin Tranter that was circled in red, signifying that he was the number one suspect. 

The creaking sound of the floorboards had Sligo gathering the papers together and placing them under the pillow before he invited Rufus into his room in response to the tap on the door.  Rufus explained that Kevin Tranter had called around to tell Rufus that the family were going away for an overnight stop at a hotel on the coast and asked Rufus to feed the act and left him a spare key.  Following a brief period of persuasion by Sligo, Rufus agreed to give Sligo the key later on condition that he wouldn’t cause any damage, or leave any sign that he’d been snooping in the house.

‘Mr Cranleigh I’m a trained specialist and I promise you that your neighbours will have no reason to suspect that anyone has been in the house.  If I get caught then no amount of torture would make me involve you.  No sir, you need have no fear on that score.’

Rufus thought his American lodger was a fool for suspecting Kevin Tranter, but at least he was being well paid.  Sligo insisted that they synchronised their watches in preparation for the mission.

* * *

Rufus had waited until it was just getting dark before he went to feed the Tranter cat and upon his return he climbed the stairs to Sligo’s room.

‘Hang on there,’ shouted Sligo after Rufus had knocked on the door.  Several minutes later Rufus knocked again and this time he was invited in.  Sligo was wearing a camouflaged uniform, his face was blackened and Rufus was tempted to say, ‘You’re going to open a door with a key, not storm some terrorist camp.’

Rufus now understood why Sligo suggested that his elderly mother shouldn’t see the barmy American while he was dressed for his ‘mission’.

‘If that feller Tranter is up to what I think he is then it’s possible that someone might be guarding the house while he’s away.  That’s why I’ll be taking this feller with me.’

‘You didn’t mention anything about guns.  That wasn’t part of the deal.’

Sligo pulled the gun from his belt and twirled it around his finger like someone from an old cowboy film.

‘Relax, my friend.  This is a replica.  It would be the real thing if it wasn’t for your softie government who restrict such things.  If I do meet anyone next door then they won’t know that the only thing that this fires is water. Well that’s what it’s supposed to fire, but I’ve filled it with vinegar.’

Rufus gave a rare smile and said, ‘Well that might come in handy if you have fish and chips for supper.’

‘Huh,’

‘It’s just my little joke,’ replied Rufus.

‘This is serious business, Mr Cranleigh and I’ll thank you not to joke.  I’ve spent the last hour getting my mind and body into pre mission mode.  If I do encounter trouble then it might just save my life.’

Rufus thought that Sligo was what some people would describe as one heck of an odd ball, but he would soon leaving their house for good and he had promised Rufus a big bonus if all went well tonight during his search next door.

‘So, what do you want me to do?’ asked Rufus even though he hoped not to get too involved with the crackpot American who had been  flexing his muscles and practising some form of martial art in front of the mirror while they had been talking.

‘First, let us synchronise our watches again,’ Sligo ordered and took a deep breath which was part of his psyching up preparation.

Sligo pulled back the left sleeve of his combat jacket to reveal a bulky diver’s watch while Rufus pulled out his old pocket watch and they compared times.

‘That old timepiece of yours is running one second slow, buddy, but it’s within specification for this operation. Now here’s your mission sheet.  Make sure you read it as soon as I’ve headed out.  Now go downstairs and start whistling when the coast is clear so that your old mom doesn’t see me.’

‘Right you are, captain,’ mocked Rufus and then whistled through the gap in his teeth.

‘I mean proper whistling.’

Rufus tried again and Sligo indicated that he was satisfied by giving him a ‘thumbs’ up signal.

When Rufus had left the room Sligo saluted the small stars and stripes flag that he had pinned to the bedroom wall and then began shadow boxing. 

* * *

Sligo was still busy punching the air in between driving his right fist into the palm of his left hand as he continued his psyching up ritual when there was a tap on his door.

‘Is everything all right in there,’ Rufus whispered. ‘My mother’s dozed off, but she’ll wake up if I do anymore whistling down there.’

Sligo silently admonished himself for not staying focussed on the task, but then made up his excuse when he opened the door and lied to Rufus, ‘I had to recheck something that was mission critical.’

Sligo reminded Rufus to study his mission instructions, patted his various pockets to check that he had everything and then followed Rufus downstairs and then fumbled to open the front door, but finally stepped outside, leaving Rufus shaking his head.

Sligo crouched as he made his way down Rufus’s front path and then checked that no one was in the street.  The coast was clear, but he still decided to force his way through the small gap in the hedge that divided the properties, emerging the other side, spluttering bits of small leaves from his mouth.

He froze and then hurled himself to the ground after the security light beamed into his face and he cursed Rufus for not mentioning the light.  He waited several minutes after the light had extinguished before crawling on his stomach and then slowly stood up near the doorway and gave a sigh of relief when the security light didn’t come on. 

‘Right let’s get this show on the road,’ he said and then searched his pockets for the key.  He banged a giant fist against his forehead when he realised that Rufus hadn’t handed over the key.  There was more cursing against Rufus, but it didn’t matter none now because he wasn’t going back for the key.  He’d spent enough time trying to do it the Brit’s way.  Now, he would do it his way.  Sligo placed his left hand against the door and delivered a karate blow with his right hand.  The loud thump was followed by a squeal as the pain shot up Sligo’s arm.  The hand wasn’t broken, but neither was the door open.  To anyone watching it would have appeared as though he had decided to walk away as he strode down the path, but then he did an about turn and shoulder charged the front door.  The quiet of the evening was shattered by the thud and splintering of wood as Sligo fell into the hallway and ‘Mission Tranterman’ was about to begin.      

* * *

Kevin settled the bill with the breakdown driver and headed over to the family who were sat on a bench beside the car park.

‘Is everything all right, Kevin?’  Debbie asked.

‘What time will we be in Newquay, Dad?’ Jamie asked. ‘It’s been a brill day, but I can’t wait to play the games if the arcades are still open.’

‘Are we nearly there, Daddy?’ Leanne asked.

‘Hang on, gang,’ Kevin responded to the flurry of questions. ‘The good news is that the car is fixed.  It could have been worse, but he managed to fit a second-hand carburettor.  The bad news is that it all but cleaned me out of dosh.  So,’ Kevin paused before he broke the bad news that they would have to head for home and not carry on to Newquay.

Leanne gave a disappointed sigh, ‘Ahhh, I wanted to see Cornwall.’

‘Never mind, Dad, we’ve had a great day and we can always go another time,’ Jamie said, not wishing to make his dad feel any worse than he probably already did.

‘Of course we can,’ chipped in Debbie, giving the disappointed Kevin a supportive smile and then added that it would be better driving there in daylight because it was already getting dark.

When the family had settled back in their car Kevin started the engine, put on his seat belt and said, ‘Okay gang let’s find us a chippy and then we’ll head for home.  We should get back in time to watch a late night film.  Oh, and we mustn’t forget to buy old Rufus a stick of rock.’

‘Won’t it be bad for his teeth?’ asked Leanne.

Kevin and Jamie responded with a chorus of, ‘What teeth!’ and the car was filled with the family’s laughter.

‘We could take his lodger some real rocks to eat, ‘Kevin suggested. ‘I saw him going into Rufus’s shed the other day and he reminded me of one the two big Americans that ran away from Benbow that day, except he had a really bushy beard.  I said hello, but he seemed shy for an American and turned his head away?’

‘Benbow’s a nice dog.’ Leanne said, remembering how friendly he was whenever she visited the farm.

‘He’s a pussycat really, Princess and don’t you say he’s a dog, Jamie,’ Kevin said and took the words out of Jamie’s mouth.

 During the short trip to the chip shop Kevin had Leanne and Jamie laughing with his remarks about the various people that they had seen on the beach earlier in the day.  Debbie gave the occasional smile, but her thoughts were recalling what she had seen from the bedroom window two days ago when she had spotted Rufus’s lodger admiring the cucumbers.  She had seen a cucumber rise from the soil and two large tomatoes had fluttered from the greenhouse.  She had gasped when she had seen that the lodger had a cucumber for a nose and tomatoes instead of eyes.  She had remembered her old Nan who had started imagining all kind of odd things before she went into the Care Home.  Debbie had decided that it must have been the sunlight playing tricks, or so she thought until she had seen him passing by the house later while she was at the front door paying the milk man.  The lodger had waved to them and the milk man had obviously not seen his cucumber nose and tomatoes eyes like she had for the second time that day.

* * *

Sligo waited in the darkened hallway of the Tranter’s house, lying on his back to conserve energy and prepare himself for the task ahead.  He clenched his vinegar loaded pistol, listening intently for any sound that might indicate that he was not alone in the house.  He wasn’t dealing with anything ordinary here.  An enemy that could muster helicopters and assemble troops like they did during the farm raid must have a lot of resources available to them.  He still hadn’t ruled out the possibility that the Brits might be trying to hijack his assignment, but if there was any glory to be had then he was going to make sure that he got it.  He would show those who had him put away that they had made a big mistake.  Ben Sligo didn’t give up that easy, no sir.  He closed his eyes and put his fingers over his nose remembering what he’d been taught on his special training course.  He hoped that by closing down his senses of sight and smell it would heighten his sense of hearing and if the enemy was in the house then he would detect them. 

He was about to declare the house clear of any enemy when something touched his face.  He froze and remembered his time at the Special Forces school when he had been lowered into a pit and feathers had been stroked across his face.  It was done to make it appear like it was some sort of animal or insect, perhaps a scorpion, a black widow spider, rat or a snake.  He cautioned himself to keep perfectly still, but two minutes later his unwelcome companion was still sprawled across his face.  He couldn’t stay here much longer because his breathing was getting difficult, partly because he still had his fingers over his nose.  He slowly withdrew his fingers, but kept his eyes shut and then gasped with relief as he drew in air through his nose.  He was trying to identify the source of the smell when his companion arched its back and dug its claw into his cheek.  Sligo screeched and Ohmslaw, the Tranter cat, meowed before scurrying away.

Sligo had inspected his scratched cheek with his finger for the third time and decided that if there was anyone in the house they would have heard the commotion, so he would he would need to be on his guard.

‘Right, it’s time to go in big boy,’ he said to himself and started climbing the dimly lit stairs.  He had a powerful torch, but there was sufficient light from the street lamp outside the house to see where he was going.  By the time he reached the top of the stairs that led to the first floor he was puffing hard and his blackened face was streaked as the result of the sweat that had oozed from his skin.  His heart was pounding after he had climbed the short flight of stairs to the attic and tried to push open the door of the room where he was convinced that the secret operation was conducted from.

‘So, you think a little lock is going to stop me,’ he laughed and then hurled himself at the door and ended up on the floor of Jamie’s special room, dropping his torch which rolled away.

Sligo cried out win pain as he rolled over and struggled before he was able to stand up and groped around for the light switch and then cursed when the room remained in darkness after he’d flicked it on.  He gingerly felt the source of the pain in his butt and discovered it was the result of a large splinter that had come from the smashed door frame.  He let out a yell as he pulled out the offending piece of wood.